


Ozai 2020

by DorazPublishingHouse



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Four Seasons Total Landscaping, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27623255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DorazPublishingHouse/pseuds/DorazPublishingHouse
Summary: A week after the election results, Ozai doesn't seem to understand he lost. With one foot out the door, Zuko was still tasked to book the location for their live press meeting. A careless google search led him to Four Seasons Total Landscaping and a young organizer itching to clown a self-obsessed fascist in front of the world. A story about shutting the door behind you on your way out.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 126





	Ozai 2020

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goldilocks23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldilocks23/gifts).



As the election results rolled in a strange mania seemed to befall the campaign. Even as their majority rule steadily fell to nothing, the room’s energy remained peaked.

In this stillness, Zuko felt his doubt threaten to overwhelm him. Did he leak enough emails? Was his misinformation on the opposing party unobstructive? Did the year of partywide internal sabotage mean nothing? Was there a secret plan he wasn’t privy to?

He was contemplating the country’s history on political assassinations when he noticed Wei pour coffee creamer into his ramen. The closer he looked at the office, the more off the details became. The loud laughter. Tight hugs between old conservative men. Performative congratulations. All these clumsy imitations of success were done in view of Ozai.

It was like watching a tiger walrus marionette a set of humans.

The televisions in the room were pointedly off when the champagne was popped. While Zuko’s news feed was reveling in Ozai leaving office, four more years were being chanted.

Across the room, the phone was answered. In this tightly wound space, everyone could hear the request for a comment on their loss. Azula marched to the offending landline and tore it from the socket.

His hysterics were building out of control and there was only so much coughing that could hide a mental breakdown. Fully clenched, Zuko shuffled to the bathroom. Finally, in the privacy of a stall, Zuko channeled his uncle’s lightness and laughed himself unconscious.

Days later and this resistance to the truth was still going strong. Zuko packed up his desk in full view of a ranting Azula.

“Obviously those fools have no idea how to count,” Azula was casually perched on his desk as if everything was normal and her hair didn’t look like that. “We’re suing the water provinces for a recount. Those savages probably dropped a digit.”

Zuko makes a noncommittal noise as he placed the suspicious travel logs of administrator Zoryu into the box. “I’m sure you can clear this up quickly.”

Azula cawed loudly while her brother decided if taking the original budget with him would be a good idea. He shrugged then he dropped it in the box as well, this space was so detached from reality no one would notice it was missing.

He was bubble wrapping the framed picture of his mother when his siter’s white noise cut off and sharp nails raised his chin till their eyes met. Azula got close enough to kiss his cheek. “I have a very important mission for you brother.”

Zuko raised his sole eyebrow at that and shook his head out of her grip. “I didn’t think you’d want me anywhere near this...” He helplessly gestured.

“We’re surrounded by sycophants and traitors. Family is the only thing we can rely on. This task requires the application of the skills you’ve let sit on unharnessed. The excellence that only our father’s hand could nurture-”

He went back to double wrapping the frame while the spiel carried on. He had firmly given up on these speeches. The last time he paid attention to her he ended up backing an actual fascist. As his therapist said, untrustworthy people give untrustworthy information. Or better paraphrased, Azula always lies.

As Azula was rounding up her prattle, Zuko had officially cleared his desk of everything he needed. It looked a bit bare, so he centered his origami flowers. There. Now it looked like someone still worked here.

His sister batted the decoration aside like a petulant cat. “Zuko, were you even listening to me?”

No. “Yes?”

She nodded, more confident in her ability to persuade than fooled by Zuko’s lies. “Good. I expect a confirmation of the Four Seasons reservation by noon today. The time of winners.” Then she stalked off to terrify an unsuspecting aide.

The desired time and date may have been provided but spiritually he just wasn’t there. Any fallout of this won’t touch him, he will not be here. He might not even be in the country if he’s smart.

In that spirit, the young man did a cursory google search and chose a location whose phone number gave off good energies. Zuko was left-handed so a combination focused on the bottom left corner was also ideal.

These were the circumstances behind this fated meeting. He called.

It rang thrice before a clear voice rang out. “Four Seasons Total Landscaping speaking. We’ll bring your barren yard into full bloom. How can I help you?”

Landscaping? No, he refused to hang up and try again. He had a whole day of pretending to work ahead of him and renting event centers is dangerously close to labor. “Um… yes you can. Can you rent out spaces for a small press thing? My name’s Zuko by the way. It’s for the Ozai campaign.”

There was silence on the other end for a bit when she responded slowly. “You want to rent our lot? For Ozai? He wants to announce losing in our yard?”

“No, he still thinks he won.” There was an extra pause on her end and the poor service was getting to him. “I don’t know what you want me to say here. If you won’t do it can you transfer me to another Four Seasons? I don’t know if you’re all on the same cell plan-”

“Calm down, I didn’t say we won’t do it!” She snapped. There was a sound like a chair moving on her end and her breath changed slightly. Pacing was happening. “It’s just a little confusing. I mean, we’re a landscaping company. You get that right?”

He doesn’t care. “I don’t care.”

“We’re right off the interstate and you can hear it.”

He doesn’t care. “I don’t care.”

“Most of our customers wait for us to load up the truck in the-,” She whispered this next part. “The sex shop nearby. There’s a crematorium next door too.”

He cares very much and is delighted. “I don’t care.”

“Um,” She seemed like she was warming up to this. “When?”

Zuko felt around for his mood. “What time do you think we should do it?”

“You’re asking me? If you don’t take this seriously, this …protest won’t work.”

Mai sat across the room on the press phone, blandly repeating ‘but we won though’ steadily at a rate of once per minute. Manager Shojo was smiling so confidently that a less observant person could miss he hasn’t moved since he clocked in. “They won’t notice. Trust me.”

“How about tomorrow?” She asked cautiously. She was testing his recklessness.

The fifth idiot of the day peeped into his father’s office offering a hearty congratulations and Zuko felt at peace. “Sure, noon would probably be best. How much for the space? Or garage or whatever?”

“Tomorrow, in the middle of week.” She sighed. “If this whole scenario is real, you can do it for free. Provided you help me set up?”

He nodded like she could see him before cooing a final, “Okay, love you, bye.” He cheerfully tossed the handset. The phone tumbled through the air before clacking perfectly back in place.

The day of vague productivity ended with the sending a barely edited press announcement through Ty Lee’s account. The rest of the time he nodded rhythmically to Azula’s rants over last minute timing and made moodboards of politically motivated burnings.

* * *

That evening, he pulled up to the Four Seasons Total Landscaping. The location actually had a rather large lot, bordered by three bright blue garage doors.

Outside in the dark, a shorter water tribe woman waited for him. Her hip was cocked and eyes suspicious like he was trying to trick her or something. His Ozai 2020 pin and the permanent scowl his burn set his resting face as was probably seeing the tone.

However, he had mastered the ability to appear nonthreatening. He bared his teeth widely and waved, “Hey Zuko here!”

The generous attitude did not quell her doubts, “You’re the guy who made that crazy phone call?”

Throwing his ID card to her, he inspected the lot. Remarkably clean, like someone didn’t get the memo outsides don’t have to be swept. “This looks good. We’ll just put a cardboard box for the podium, and we can all move on.”

He strode back to his car until cool hands stilled him. “You can’t be serious. This is a once in a last time chance, we can’t just use cardboard!”

“What do you mean by chance?” He scowled. Between the overwhelming bouts of not caring, his immediate impulse was to keep assassinations within the family.

“I mean,” She insisted. “This is the Ozai’s first public appearance since he lost. And it’s here. Next to a crematorium, in a lot running a sale on nylon grass. Don’t you want to have fun?”

Once again, Zuko does not care. His father burnt off his face in the world’s worst discipline lesson. His mother is either dead or gone beyond his reach. He betrayed his uncle to a degree that he still can’t meet his eye somedays.

All he has is this insistent desire to do what’s right and somehow this woman wanted him to add fun to the docket. “Why do we need to embarrass him? There’s no chance for reelection!”

“You’d be surprised by the electorate”, she responded wryly. She seemed like the kind of woman ‘wry’ was made for. Her eyebrow raised and head held high like the intersection wasn’t drowning out her voice. A woman who knows herself and in his experience, those were very dangerous things.

Already feeling like he was fighting a losing battle, he tried to mansplain. “The corruption in his political group is clear for anyone with brains to see. He can never work again. Look, I have proof of irrefutably authoritarian reasoning behind Ozai’s controversial nomadic restriction policy. It’s clear just listen.” He tried to jog off to get his tapes when that twice damned hand held him back again.

“You don’t have to convince the Water Tribes that Ozai looks down on us. We’ve all organized behind that basic premise.” She leaned in mischievously. “This isn’t just about sending a message though. Fun, Zuko, it’s about fun.”

He repeated the word, tasting how it felt in his mouth. “Fun?” It’s nice.

She gleefully clasped her hands before dragging him inside the building with those damn hands again. It was a single level building with very wide hallways. Extremely navigable considerably more than the minimum that the Ozai’s administration required for accessibility. 

They walked past the service counter into the back storage rooms. From wall to wall, yard tools were organized. It’s beginning to sink in that he rented a landscaping company for a press announcement. She guided him to a corner occupied by propped up junk.

“My best friend thinks gender roles are a joke.” She narrated as she dug through the mess. “So, for his birthday, we all decided to throw him a combination princess and aviation party.”

He picked up a tangled mass of plastic stars. “Princess and aviation?” He repeated.

“You had to be there. The point is, I got the Bei Fongs to let us store supplies here until the party.” The girl stood up and partially unfurled a runway carpet. Bright pink, made of Astroturf and smelling strongly of spray paint. He dropped the stars in shock. “I know for a fact no one will mind us borrowing this for a good cause.”

Outside Zuko was rolled out the carpet and found it perfectly covered the area between the driveway and where the podium will stand. “Did you measure this?”

“Yup,” She cried gleefully, smoothening out the kinks on the sticky thing. “We’re a very resourceful group. Now, what’s in your car?”

Nothing as good as what she had stored in her back room but that didn’t dampen her enthusiasm. She rifled through his car like she owned it. A small pile of usable stuff forming on the ground. Mostly pins and the seven lawn signs he’s been intending to toss for a week now. Overall, he’s a clean guy.

“You’re a pretty clean guy.” She said. “You’d assume a billionaire’s kid couldn’t take care of his things. Just buy a new one when he doesn’t want to vacuum his carpet or something.”

He’d be offended if Azula didn’t literally just gift Ty Lee her car to avoid an oil change. “That’s me, a down to earth prince type. What does your car look like?”

She triumphantly pulled out a stack of flyers that had fallen into the spare tire well and grinned at him. “Spotless.”

He smiled back. It was less awkward this time. “Nothing? Not even a comb?”

She laughed proudly as she kicked the pile towards the large garage door. The planned center of the event. “Not even. I am.” Kick. “The responsible one.” Kick. “And the mother figure-” Kick. “So, I figured I should set a good example.” A big kick and the supplies slammed into the garage. “If we glue all of this together could we make our own podium?”

That sounded like a lot of work for Ozai but disappointing her was starting to feel like blasphemy. “Anything you want.” He said as he plopped down.

She studied videos on how to build a cuboid while Zuko separated the metal from the cardboard. They worked in silence for all of three minutes before she started prying. “So, what’s with the rebellion? No loyalty in Ozai’s house?”

The abruptness led to him ripping straight through one of their precious few supplies. He felt more sour about the tear than explaining a terrible childhood. “He was a bad dad. Burnt my face. Tried to teach us our inherent superiority while sitting on earth kingdom made furniture. I got therapy and a support system. Decided fascism wasn’t a thing honorable people do.”

The carpenter in the video chattered on as she stared at him. Her eyes were very blue. So blue he felt like one false step into free falling into them. “It must have been hard.” She said.

“I backtracked a lot,” He confessed. “But I know myself more now. I can exist without him and it is my duty to use this position to bring him down. I think it was my destiny.”

She steadily crawled across the spray-painted Astroturf before taking his hands in hers. “I believe in destiny too. What’s you star sign?”

It’s clear to him now that he’s found his soulmate. “My sun’s Aries.” Feeling particularly daring he added. “My Venus is Cancer.”

Bright eyes gleamed as she rested a pink streaked palm on the side of his face. “My sun’s Cancer. And my Venus is Virgo.”

It’s not halfway enough to do a compatibility assessment but it’s a good start. He trusted her enough to reveal her moon when she’s ready. Taking a particularly deep breath, he’d trust her with his life.

The fumes off the carpet might be muddling things but this had good bones. They just needed to set up this debacle before anything else. As if reading his mind, she pulled her hand away and replayed the tutorial.

With the help of walkthrough, they sure had built something. It was more a three-sided presentation board than podium. Although, she had repurposed the ripped board to make a top for ‘Ozai’s important papers and such’. Regardless, a podium made from lawn signs does not a tall structure make. Nor a particularly stable one. A stray breeze sent the thigh high structure tilting easily.

Zuko had a fix though. “Water holds things together.”

The water tribe woman glared at him like he threatened her first born. “Soaking this thing would make it collapse. We worked hard on this.”

“No, I mean. We can wet some napkins and line the inside of this thing. It won’t fold and we can do it to the floor too. Soapy paper towels are basically cement.”

Reluctantly, she let him experiment with this integrity threatening theory. Their romantic future was hanging on this project. It would be a sign, in more ways than one.

In the stilted silence, the haphazard papier-mache finally dried. Zuko got on his hands and knees next to the lopsided artwork while his partner hovered over his shoulder. Lacking in faith but quiet. He took a deep breath and blew hard at the structure. It didn’t even shift.

The silence gave way to cheers as the pink streaked, paper splattered adults hopped around and whooped. She was right, this was fun.

The final project for the night was the backdrop. “The final project for this night, is the backdrop.” Zuko announced in the breakroom, while nursing his second cup of coffee of the night. The sun was already rising, and they had until noon for the thing to really start though.

“It’s going to be the thing everyone sees when the camera’s on.” She agreed greedily guzzling from her own cup. It was her fifth of the night. As the sun came up, she started going down.

“Something that screams incompetence.” Her face seemed to turn sulky at that. The implication that their podium was not incompetent enough stung. He patted her hand in comfortingly, while he considered.

They considered for so long, they fell asleep in the breakroom.

It was cute. They held hands.

This peace was disrupted by Zuko’s ring tone. Azula was calling. They had two hours left. The press would arrive within the hour and they didn’t even have a backdrop. Through it, a dawning horror of what they did the night rose up while listening to his sister micromanaging.

By the time Azula’s psychological assault was over, the lone employee in this place had checked on their set up from last night and confirmed its stability. The questionably good news weighed on his head so heavily it sunk behind his arms.

Uncle Iroh would not be able to protect him from this. He had openly defied his father over something as stupid as fun. The truly fault wasn’t putting himself in danger, it was taking himself out of a position of influence so decisively. The sins of his ancestors required focused attention to atone for and he threw it all away his connections just to see his abuser laid low.

Azula would never have been this careless and reckless and stupid. Four years of subterfuge and he already tried to pull out. He had no right to want a win so public, he was ridiculous.

A loud thump interrupted his spiral. “Hey.” He looked up to see a stack of printed paper about the same size of a young adult novel. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, he let their eyes meet and he was drowning again. It seemed it wasn’t just the fumes.

Pools of endless ocean were hardening into ice right in front of him. “You better not be regretting what we did last night.”

We? Shit. “You’re about the fired for my selfishness, you should be the one regretting this.” Fear gripped his heart at the risk he carelessly shared until he saw a way out. “There’s no gate in this place, you can pin this on me. Just say I let myself in or something.”

The woman whose life his carelessness threatened to ruin snorted indignantly. “Shouldering emotional burdens are my thing, Zuko. Let the Bei Fongs try and fire the only person keeping their daughter in school. And furthermore,” She huffed and threw her arms into the air. “Even if they could fire me, I’d do it all again. Your monstrous family’s peacekeeping force killed my mother. So, if in-between the organizing, the writing, the phone banking, I get to directly catalyze the moment its head realized the empire is gone.” She breathed in slowly, savoring the sheer concept of it. “It would be priceless.”

Open hatred for his family was something he could only view on internet forums. Openly defying had consequences. Instead, code speak. Expressions of displeasure. Limp suggestions that there were some things his father could maybe kinda sorta improve on. Secret reassurances. It was all he had when he was thirteen and his father decided he didn’t deserve half his face.

This though, a human being openly vitriolic was like finally meeting a real person in a sea of shades. “I think you’re right. Fighting in the open, there’s nothing like it.”

She chuckled lowly before carrying the stack. “You can join one of my organizations if you want more fighting, rebel guy.” At that, she spun on her heel and went out the door.

Of course, he trailed after her like a lost polar bear puppy. She locked up behind them before arriving at the end of their grass carpet. Laying the stack next to her, she gracefully streaked glue on the garage door before placing one of her prints.

Once Zuko figured out a place in the flow she had established, he helped. Ducking under each other’s arms, nonverbal requests for assistance and light teasing defined the work. There aren’t easy ways to describe what it felt like, working with her.

He imagined, it would be similar to how the left arm feels about the right.

Completing the last layer, they decide to get out of dodge, moving both their cars to the adult store nearby.

The lot was easily viewable from the front porch of the store. It was impolite to hang about without buying anything though. So his friend, whose name he still did not know, had taken his wallet to buy a dildo.

From where he was standing, he could see the press junket gathering. There was a good spread of news agencies. Even famed unionbusting journalist, Long Feng, had come out from his everything is fine tower to acknowledge the ousting of a tyrant.

A lot of confusion seemed to hang in the air. It was strange because he thought he was very explicit in the back of the flyers they left behind.

Into the driveway of the Four Seasons Landscaping, Azula’s car pulled up a whole fifteen minutes before the scheduled start of the conference. Out of character for a woman who unironically applies the princess in never late model to her everyday life.

Surprisingly, or perhaps sensibly, Ty Lee and Mai exited the vehicle alone. They took a measured lap around the lot before promptly getting back in the car and driving off. Just like all the others that arrived before them.

He’s not worried about the surprise though. The desire to keep their heads on their shoulders ensured no one would alert the poorly tempered man beforehand.

A brown head obstructed his view and shook a box in his face. “What is that?”

She shrugged while tearing it open. “Edible underwear. They don’t sell food in there.”

Besides himself he was curious, “Can I have some?”

It was as he sat with a mouthful of G-string, his family stopped their very obvious circling and pulled up into Four Season’s Landscaping.

His partner-in-crime scootched forward.

Ozai stepped out wearing the heavily ornamented ceremonial clothes of their ancestors. The clothes they wore when celebrating military victories and the subjugation of others. Those antique robes were dragged over the attempts of some cheap twenty-something year olds trying to recreate a fairytale. 

His sister and father took disbelieving steps towards the podium. Their very patriotic cuboid were in the signature red and black of the party. This is because if one tilted their head to the right, it was clearly mass produce campaign advertising cobbled together with skill and love. 

Under the watchful eye of the press, Ozai delicately placed his cue cards on the podium.

It promptly folded in on itself. His partner gasped sorrowfully.

As the cameras recorded, everything the backdrop stayed in view. On the garage door, a sixth grade’s dream of clip art and comic sans read “OZAI IS A WINNER”, “OZAI IS A SMART GOOD BOY WINNER”, “CLAP FOR OZAI”.

Tragically in black and white. They were out of colored ink in the breakroom and she had informed him it was Toph’s fault. Whoever that was.

Ultimately, she needn’t have moved forward. The calamity was plenty audible.

The buildings bordering the road emptied out to watch Azula screeching obscenities while Ozai tried to act in control. The press gleefully recorded everything while calling out questions about the historically drastic flip in power. No matter how hard he glared, nothing was letting up. He isn’t as good as making people doubt their own minds when the audience are adults off his payroll.

In the midst of the discord, his name got yelled out a couple times too many for either of their comforts. Clumsily, they juggled getting to her car with keeping the underwear candy from spilling out of their hands. After making a quick double take at the back of her car, he managed to get his door open with his elbow.

“No!” He froze with one foot in the passenger side. “No food in my car! Eat every damn piece first Prince Zuko.”

“You too.” He glared.

In the middle of their high speed escape, the two adults stuffed their mouths with chalky, technically edible sex toys before finally jumping into the car.

She peeled out into the road making sure to pass Four Seasons Landscaping on their way out. In a display of the political recklessness that seemed to define her, she stuck her head out of the window and called out. “Embarrassing loss Lord Ozai! SAD!”

It was a cry that might have been lost in the chaos, if her passenger seat didn’t sit a young man with very distinct facial features laughing wildly.

Neither of them will ever forget the look on Ozai’s face as long as they breathe.

Their sturdy car merged into the highway as they basked in the glow of the mess they left behind. He hopes his car will okay but there were good people in that adult store. It’ll be okay. Maybe.

“I used to imagine what it would be like when he knew how much I hated him.” Her long braid whipped around as she tried to juggle watching him and keeping an eye on the road. “I never imagined I’d have a friend with me.”

She smiled so sincerely his chest ached. Then she laughed teasingly. “A friend? Okay then, what’s your friend’s name, Zuko?”

For once in his life, luck had smiled down at him. His friend was many things. Talented, resourceful, beautiful, clever and most relevantly, very cheesy. At the back of this very car, a boldly water tribe name was engraved as the license plate.

He smiled easily back at her. Not an inch of awkwardness. “Will you go out with me, Hakoda?”

* * *

When they tell the story of the day they met, Zuko maintains the name mix-up, Katara’s wild hyena-seal laughter and the resulting fender bender are unnecessary details to share.

**Author's Note:**

> Breaking in a new account with an insane concept. That sounds about right.


End file.
